People will do things for the honour of their children that they would never even consider doing for themselves. (c) George Martin
***I started by looking for the dark artefact. I had a strong suspicion that the house elf's madness and the state of the house were connected to it. And I myself felt some kind of discomfort, as if a small pebble had fallen into my shoe. It was tolerable to walk with it, but it was annoying, and I wanted to shake it out as soon as possible. This feeling had settled somewhere inside me from the moment I put on the ring of the head of the family.
Actually, it didn't make me the real head of the family, even formally, but the ring itself was a good artefact, which, among other things, also protected against mind control. And, as far as I knew, this protection could well come in handy in my fight against Tom's Horcrux. There were other artefacts in the Black family vault, but Sirius wasn't very interested in the dark arts, so he didn't know much about the treasure trove, simply because he didn't understand blood magic and all that. So before using anything from the Black family's extensive collection, I had to take another look in the library. But I didn't have time for that yet.
The head of the family's ring was the perfect option. All I had to do was be a Black by blood to get my hands on it, so that's what I did.
Putting on the ring and taking my wand, I methodically went around the house, destroying the little magical pests that had a habit of settling in abandoned magical houses, such as pixies and the boggart that had taken up residence on the second floor. By the way, it turned out that my boggarts, like Harry's in the film, were Dementors... Taken by surprise, without thinking, I killed the poor creature with Avada. I don't know if this would work on a real Dementor, but the boggart that flew out of the closet at me was killed instantly. I didn't even remember about the Patronus, it was too late.
I must say, during this crusade against pests, both large and small, I got quite good at the simplest spells, and some not so simple ones. At first it was quite fun, especially with the flying dwarves, like a quest in a game, just cast spells at moving targets and improve your skills. But when my feet had been practically everywhere in the house, I started to get a little worried.
"Where is that damn medallion?!" — thoughts like these had been running through my head for the last half hour. The Black House turned out to be a very large place compared to my childhood memories. Some rooms I had never been in before. And finally, after running around the whole house, there was only one place left that I hadn't looked in. It was the kitchen. As luck would have it, what you're looking for is always right in front of you. So, the Slytherin medallion was in a small utility room in the kitchen, where I had looked to check on the house-elf.
"Damn it!" It turned out that Kreacher had been dragging everything he had cleaned up to the corner near the boiler room. And if it had been something valuable... Broken wands, shards of vases, old candle stubs and other rubbish — all this formed a large nest, in the centre of which Tom's Horcrux glinted ominously with its polished edges.
"DEVIL...!" Suddenly, the old house-elf appeared right in front of my face with a bang — and immediately received Stupefy to his crazy head.
"Rest for now," I said, pushing the house-elf's body aside so he wouldn't get in the way, and prepared to face a piece of Voldemort with my own eyes, so to speak. There was no point in destroying the Horcrux now; who knows how many more there were. Besides, while "cleaning up" the house, I had an idea to use the locket as a test sample. I desperately needed to find a way to get the Horcrux out of my godson's head safely, not with an Avada Kedavra to the forehead. And Tom's fragment was supposed to help me with that.
"Wingardium Leviosa... Okay, got it," — the spell ricocheted off the pipe, which immediately started steaming. I immediately returned everything to its original state, additionally protecting the boiler with spells. — Confundo! Stupefy, Impedimenta...
I started with the simplest spells, gradually increasing their complexity and power. Green, red, yellow — all the colours of the rainbow — rays flew out of the wand, scattering into harmless sparks or bouncing off the walls, ceiling or floor. Krestrazh was protected by a ghostly haze around the amulet, and my task was to find out what spells this haze was afraid of. And it was afraid of... fire! Not even the "Hellfire" itself (I wasn't crazy enough to summon it in my own home), but even "Inflamare Duo," a powerful fire spell, made Tom's Krestrazh flinch a little. After that, I knew what to do with this remnant of the black lord's soul.Just in case, I put the house-elf to sleep again and left him in the armchair in the living room, then quickly rushed to the artefact storage room. There was a magical item I was familiar with called a "fire cage." It was a simple cage, almost like one for a regular hamster, but this little thing was intended for special magical animals — fire salamanders. When the chain of runes on the base was activated, specially enchanted metal rods literally lit up and began to emit a huge amount of heat directed inward. It would seem, how can fiery creatures be kept in a fiery trap? It turned out that it was possible. Apparently, the principle of "fight fire with fire" was at work here. So I thought that in such a trap, Voldemort's cruciatus would not feel well enough to try to influence Kreacher or me. There was one thing left to do. How could I put the artefact in the trap without touching it?
After a few minutes of intense brainstorming, the answer came to me.
"Piertotum locomotor," I said tensely, completing a complex series of movements with my wand in front of the old knight's armour. This spell of higher transfiguration temporarily animates humanoid objects, such as statues or armour, and allows you to give them mental commands.
"Bzdyin!" The armour struck its iron chest with a fist. I crouched down next to it for a moment. I felt a nasty weakness in my body after the spell, my head was spinning, and there was a nasty ringing in my ears. I still hadn't recovered from Azkaban; first the test of the Horcrux, and then the powerful transfiguration spell had drained my strength.
After a short rest, the armour and I (which sounds rather strange, of course) went back to the kitchen, to the ill-fated utility room. I cast a couple more powerful protective spells on the golem, after emptying a bottle of restorative potion. I didn't have enough for more, but I think the Dementor had also used up some of its power.
"Take it," I commanded, and the knight obeyed, picking up the massive silver medallion with his chainmail glove and carrying it to the library. Surprisingly, Voldemort's soul did not resist. I don't know why, but I was ready to back up the steadily advancing golem at any moment.
Fortunately, the protection of the room with the artefacts let my creation pass along with the Horcrux. Apparently, it had encountered worse amulets before... And just as the knight approached the stand with the fiery cage, Reddle sensed something was wrong.
"Give me back my power... with it, you will be able to protect the one who is dear to you!" the cruciatus suddenly hissed.
A powerful mental blow struck my mind, even through the protective artefact. It felt like being hit on the head with something very heavy, my thoughts immediately became confused, and the ring on my finger instantly heated up, causing even more discomfort.
"Put it on... FIRE!
Fortunately, the golem obeyed only the last command of its master, not the tempting whisper of the remnant of its soul, and obediently lowered the medallion into the cage, immediately closing the bars that had flashed open. The cretious screeched, but fell silent almost immediately.
"No, Tommy," I said wearily, stretching out on the stone floor. The cold marble felt good on my injured head. "I can protect him without you.
I lay in the vault for a while longer, gathering my strength and regaining my composure, the darkness and silence being perfect for this. Then, carefully, feeling my way along the wall, I got up, taking care not to move too abruptly, and made my way to the living room, where I left the elf's body. I hope he won't try to kill me again, at least I want to feel safe in my own home.
"Master Sirius... Kreacher didn't mean it!" After waking up, the cowering house elf looked as if he was about to cry. Ha, elves are a very poor race with a terrible fate. It's a pity I can't do anything about it. All I could do was treat him like any other house elf. "It's all that nasty thing! Kreacher tried to destroy it, tried to destroy..."
"I know, Kreacher, and I don't blame you," I reassured the old servant. "You did well, Regulus would have been proud of you. Now that thing won't hurt anyone."
I listened to the house-elf's rambling story of how my brother had taken him to the underground lake. How he had forced the elf to pour the cursed potion into him, and then died at the cold hands of Voldemort's inferi. I remembered some of it, but some parts of the story were new to me. After the house-elf's story, I was overcome with apathy. Even the breakfast prepared by Kreacher, who had outdone himself this time, didn't help much. I couldn't get a bite down, and I had to wash each mouthful down with huge gulps of water. My thoughts revolved around Regulus, Riddle, Harry, and the Death Eaters. Somehow, Riddle and Regulus had found out about them. And while Tom could have learned about it during his travels or at Hogwarts, how did Reg find out about this truly vile sorcery, considering that the literature on dark magic in the castle had been significantly reduced as soon as Dumbledore became headmaster?It seems that, like it or not, I'll have to comb through the family library from cover to cover. Unlike his older brother, Regulus often spent time there with his old father, and it seems that the answer to the riddle of the Horcrux lies there. But first, I had to finish all my business at home. The library was vast, and I didn't think I would find anything there in a short time, and Harry was waiting for me. And I mustn't forget the traitor Pettigrew; that little rat was supposed to help me clear my good name.
So, after a difficult breakfast, I set about my current tasks. First, I harnessed Kreacher to buy food supplies and necessary potions, handing him almost all of my remaining cash. I couldn't just hang around Diagon Alley without the risk of being exposed by the Auror patrols or someone else, but inconspicuous House-elves in the shops of the magical quarter were quite a common sight, and no one paid any attention to them as long as they paid their wages on time. While Kreacher was shopping, I tidied up the kitchen as best I could, destroying all traces of the Dark Lord's presence there. Through the artefact glasses I found in the library, Kreacher's "nest" was covered in some kind of black slime, which only disappeared after the entire room had been completely cremated. I don't need that kind of gift near my food.
Then there was a whole lesson in transfiguration with Master Sirius. I was lucky that the former Marauder was very talented in this area, otherwise everything would have been much... more complicated. I replaced some items, removed the outdated boiler room, beautifully decorated the walls and ceiling, and cast a spell of eternal transfiguration on everything.
Kreacher, by the way, didn't really like the new kitchen design, even though it was brighter and more spacious than before, but he didn't dare to argue, still feeling guilty for attacking his master. I must say, my dearest mother would certainly not have limited herself to cutting off his head for that... I was not inclined to idealise her. Still, Black is Black. Off the top of my head, I could name at least ten things she had done that violated current legislation.
After another "light" snack of English cuisine, which went down better thanks to my latest bout of active charm, I decided to talk to Valburge's portrait again. I needed to refresh my memory of all the details concerning the "correct" way to accept the inheritance.
Orion had told Sirius about this when he was a child, but I still wanted to be on the safe side, as my memories were rather vague and fragmentary, and Sirius himself was clearly not enthusiastic about what was happening and showed no interest in the conversation.
"Now I am proud of you, my son," Valburga said after a short silence when I asked her about the rituals. She then explained in great detail the steps I needed to take to accept the inheritance of the Rod family. I must say that these things were not very complicated, but they did require some preparation. In particular, I had to wait until nightfall to take the oath at the altar. Everything else, except for one thing, was very simple. As usual, there was one big "but."
Blood magic, like any dark magic, required a sacrifice. And at the moment of invoking Rod's magic, that sacrifice was life. This nearly ruined my plans. I was not going to risk my life, not in my position, when my godson's life depended on me, and, in the long run, so did Andromeda's and the entire magical world of Britain. I had already destroyed the future I knew from the films by escaping from Azkaban early. It was unclear how this would turn out. However, I certainly did not regret this decision.
However, after my clearly colourful expression, Walburga deigned to explain that a human sacrifice could be replaced by the life of an animal, but it had to be a large one, such as a bull or an ox, full of life energy. Now I had the additional task of finding a bull while I was busy with the rest of the preparations for the ritual of acceptance into the clan. Surprisingly, he managed to do this quite quickly, and now a phlegmatic brown horned animal lived in a spare room on the third floor, and a house elf carried alfalfa and oats to the animal.
I felt sorry for the handsome beast, but I felt even more sorry for myself and Harry, so the animal's fate was sealed. There was still plenty of time before the ritual, and I was finally able to deal with Narcissus Fletcher.
"Er... Sirius, brother... You're not going to do anything to your old friend, are you?" he muttered drearily when I woke him from his sleep. His red, bulging eyes darted around, scanning the surrounding space. He couldn't move any other part of his body; I had made sure of that.
We were in the basement of the house, which used to be a potions laboratory, and it was the only place I hadn't touched yet. All the knives, hooks and other tools for cutting up valuable ingredients fit in well with the atmosphere of this extremely inhospitable place. Of course, I had no intention of resorting to torture, but weakening the prisoner's mind in this way was very effective."Nazemnikus, old... friend," I practically spat out the last word. Rage rose in my heart. This scum was really an old comrade of Sirius, whose ass he had saved from the clutches of the Devourers more than once. "Your friendship didn't last long after I was thrown into Azkaban, did it?"
"Ahem, I just..." His eyes darted around again.
"Tell me what Dumbledore told you to do this time," I thought to myself, coming to the conclusion that the old gambler and drunkard couldn't have spent the money I found in his belongings. Fletcher never saved for a rainy day. So...
"Oh... what are you talking about?" The thief's dilated pupils confirmed my suspicions. That was it, now I knew where to look.
"Legilimens.
A cry full of pain rang out in vain from inside the thick walls of the old house. No one would hear. No one would come. The mansion on Grimm Square, just as it had for half a century, silently kept its secrets.
***
Digging through Fletcher's memories was disgusting. Really disgusting. A dirty, cowardly soul, a life full of violence and blood. In most civilised countries of the world, the crimes committed by Nazemnikus were punishable by death. Robbery, theft, extortion, murder, rape... And they even put me in Azkaban! However, Fletcher had only one justification for all his actions in the eyes of the law. Almost everything he did was done to ordinary people, Muggles, the lowest class in the eyes of the magical community.
After delving into Nazemnicus's thoughts, I began to understand how things worked in magical Britain. To begin with, Muggles were not considered human beings in the usual sense of the word by the average pure-blood wizard. And they certainly weren't considered equals. Overall, I understood them a little.
The thing was, ordinary people had virtually no chance against wizards. They couldn't move instantly, they lived to be sixty or seventy, and they often got sick. Confundus, basic suggestion, even without Imperius, and an unprotected person will do whatever the wizard wants. A bombard and an invisibility spell, and there will be practically nothing left of an entire city. Cameras? Guns? Illusion magic works perfectly on Muggle cameras. Firearms are just amusing toys against a kinetic shield. All modern electronics malfunction when magic appears, and with a couple of specific spells, they can be easily disabled.
The Statute of Secrecy wasn't passed for no reason. It protects ordinary people from wizards like Fletcher. They're basically helpless against unknown, unexplored, but powerful magic.
What that stinking, sweaty guy did... To be honest, it made me sick. It ruined Kricher's delicious breakfast. I held onto the wall for a long time, trying to catch my breath, while scenes from the life of that scumbag flashed through my mind.
But I hadn't seen everything yet, so:
"Legilimens.
***
While I was showering, washing off the dirt that had been splashed on me during Fletcher's interrogation, fragments of his old conversation with Snape were spinning around in my head.
"Are you sure?" A thin, earth-coloured hand with long, gnarled fingers held a tightly packed, jingling bag. Grounderus always had a good sense for gold.
"Heh... that old bitch is definitely in her grave, I'm telling you..." He nervously licked his chapped lips, devouring the coveted coins with his eyes.
"Here," Snape contemptuously threw the Galleons to Grounder, then got up from his chair and moved towards the exit.
Nazemnikus, spiritually counting the Galleons from the bag, still managed to see how, before leaving, Snape suddenly turned around, as if he had forgotten something, and his hand crept towards his wand. But a moment later, Fletcher was already near the familiar house with the screaming sign. He planned to relax properly today with the advance he had received.
Before and after this insignificant fragment, there were real black holes in Fletcher's memory. It was either Obliviate or the effect of the Unbreakable Vow, and the latter seemed more likely, as such gaps in memory would be difficult to ignore. And the truth serum didn't help much either. Although...
I looked into the eyes of the large dog-like mouth, from which water was pouring, and shuddered slightly, sighing.
Not for me to say. Sirius's memory had been full of gaps since he entered Hogwarts. And I wasn't sure that Black was protecting certain memories in this way. Besides, that episode... It looks as if Nyunchik simply didn't have time to erase the unnecessary parts, and Naizemnikus managed to escape before he could cast a spell on him, saved only by his impatience to spend what he had received. But who were they talking about? What was the role of Snape and Dumbledore? At first, I thought the old man had simply tasked Grounder with finding me through his connections... By the way, thank you very much for those, "old friend." But now I don't think so, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else going on.
"Damn it!" — a strange reflection stared back at me from the polished silver surface. A moment later, it was just me again... beginning to understand what kind of trouble I had gotten myself into of my own free will.
There were only a couple of hours left before the ritual. And I desperately wanted to get drunk.
***
The entire story has already been written at:
patreon.com/posts/reborn-as-sirius-142654970